


Sometimes They Do Need a Squib

by ladyroxanne21



Category: Archer (Cartoon), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Fic, Crack, F/M, If you don't know who Pam is, Illegal Potions Ring, then none of this will make sense lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 21:45:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10999608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyroxanne21/pseuds/ladyroxanne21
Summary: Harry gets partnered with newly transferred Auror Pam Poovey, and together, they're assigned to investigate a possible illegal potions ring.





	Sometimes They Do Need a Squib

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I was too excited to do a second pass of editing, so if there're a lot of typos, that's why, lol.  
> Secondly, I really feel like I should apologize in advance. Normally, I like to keep the swearing in my writing to a minimal, not because I am a prude (I swear at least twice a sentence in real life), but because I find it a fun challenge to be creative and find other words - hence the reason why I LOVE Merlin, lmao!  
> That said, Pam's character is fairly foul mouthed. Thus, this fic has taken the swearing factor up to an 11 or 12, lol. I really am sorry! But also, I hope it makes you laugh :-)

“So I guess the most important things you need to know are, A: I expect you to pull your own weight, and B: I won't give you an autograph,” Harry informed his new partner sternly.

The chubby blonde woman raised a brow at him. “And... _why_ would I want your autograph?”

This frankly took Harry aback. “Wait, you mean you don't?”

The newly transferred Auror – Pam Poovey – gave Harry a look that clearly wondered if he was mental. “I'm  _American_ . Unless I'm about to eat it or have sex with it, I don't particularly care about something's name – and honestly, usually not even then.”

“Er...” Harry droned, still feeling a bit off balance. “So... You _honestly_ don't care that I'm Harry Potter?”

“You ask that like I should know you – like yer a celebrity or something. And come to think of it, your – _our_ – boss thought I'd be thrilled to be working with you too. He seemed about as shocked as a choir boy in a catholic church that I don't give two shitsnacks who you are,” Pam stated, rather nonchalantly considering what she had just said.

Harry stared at her in astonishment for a moment before he realized that her attitude and utter disregard for who he is was probably the exact reason the Head Auror had decided to partner Harry with this brash American after all. Then, he couldn't help but laugh at her words. Her wildly inappropriate but inexplicably funny words.

“Er, alright,” he replied with a wry smile. “So then, what brings you here to our Auror department? … And Britain in general?”

“Well... So I worked for several years as a sort of field agent – actually not as often as I'd like – but anyway, I had experience in the field, and then when my best friend got shot and nearly drowned, but survived except for that he went into a coma – well, that sort of brought out entire agency to a stand still as he was our top agent and without him, there really wasn't enough work to pay us all. 

“So, MACUSA got wind of the fact that I'm a squib and have field agent training that worked out perfectly for an operation that they needed done. They came to me in the middle of the night; basically those punkass bitches scared the shitballs out of me and I was about to murder them all, but they Stunned me and dragged me into their headquarters in the ass end of nowhere where they made me an offer I couldn't refuse.

“And by that, I mean they offered to pay me shitload of money – like _way_ more than I made ever before in my life. Plus an ass-kicking health plan. So of-frickin'-course I took the job!

“Which means they gave me a crash course on the rules and regulations of being an Auror, tested me to make sure I really did have the skills they needed, and then sent me out to get the job done. Once I did, they sorta scratched their heads and wondered what to do with me next, and then some dicknuts had the brilliant idea of sending me to London to learn as much as I can about being an Auror in this department so that I can poach all your best techniques and bring them back to MACUSA,” Pam finished explaining, realized that she was now rather thirsty, pulled out a bottle of her favorite tequila, and took a long pull.

“Er... Is that _actually_ tequila?” Harry asked in dismay even as he was still chuckling over her fairly crass explanation.

“That depends on if I'll get in trouble if it is,” Pam answered with a loud belch.

“Yeah, actually, drinking on the job is grounds for being suspended – written up at the very least, and possibly sacked,” Harry informed her.

“You want me in the sack already? But don't we like have to at least pretend to work for another six or so hours first?” Pam wondered, mildly confused.

“Er, having sex with your partner is also highly frowned upon, although not a reason to be terminated,” Harry explained, hoping that terminated was a term she'd understand better than sacked.

Pam laughed a bit maniacally for a moment, and then ended with a cute little snort that sounded a little like a noise a pig might make. “There's no need to murder me just for having sex! Although, I suppose that's what you just said. I was going to say that dying seemed a bit harsh for the fairly frequent breaking of that particular rule.”

“Wait... just how often _have_ you shagged – er, had sex – with a partner, specifically, a _coworker_?”

Again, Pam let out that full bodied laugh that was mixed with little pig snorts. The sound of it was strangely amusing to Harry. He couldn't help but chuckle a little himself.

“Holy shitsnacks! How often _haven't_ I? I'm pretty sure I've had sex with _all_ my coworkers at some point or other!” Pam exclaimed with a laugh and absolutely no shame at all.

“Well, I have to tell you that _that_ is not likely to happen here,” Harry told her with no small amount of amusement. 

“What? You think that just because I'm chubby that I'm not phenomenal in the sack? Do you seriously mean to say that once you find out just how much I _love_ to give blowjobs, you'll turn that shit down? And for what? Wait, do you have a girlfriend? Or... well you don't really set my gaydar off, but you do make it twinge lightly. So maybe a boyfriend?” Pam asked curiously.

Harry tilted his head to the side as he looked at her, honestly wondering if she might have better intuition than the file on her he'd read before she arrived in his office implied. “Well... no. I don't currently have a girlfriend or a boyfriend, and I honestly have no idea how you twigged it, but I actually am bisexual, so it could go either way.”

“Oh me too! Man! There's nothing better than gettin' shitty drunk on two different kinds of liquor, dressing up like Mr. Archer, and banging a hot lady with a strap-on!”

“What?!” Harry blurted out in shock, not having expected that in the slightest. He eyed Pam up and down, taking in her overall appearance. She was slightly above average height for a woman, chubby with nice big breasts, wearing a slightly clingy but otherwise well-fitting set of Auror robes with her bright, yellow blonde hair pulled back in a rather severe but pretty bun. If he hadn't heard her speak – at all – he would have probably assumed that she was soft-spoken and proper wife and possibly a mother with a firm but loving hand for her children.

This was not what he expected at all!

“Er... Can't say I've ever had quite that experience,” he murmured since he honestly didn't know what else to say.

Pam took another long swig of her tequila, belched again, and then put the bottle back in one of the pockets that had a standard spell on it to make the pockets deeper than they looked so they could carry a lot of stuff, but not so deep that a person couldn't just reach the bottom before their elbow disappeared into the pocket.

“Seriously, who drinks tequila at nine in the morning?” Harry asked in mild shock.

Pam shrugged. “I'm still on American time, and there, it's like the middle of the night – which is a perfectly reasonable time to drink. But for yer information, that's actually apple juice – I just didn't have a better bottle to pour it in when the bottle it originally came in sprung a leak. I save the tequila drinking for afternoon at the earliest. And I usually smoke some weed with my lunch so that I'm already full when the munchies hit.”

It was at this point that Harry suspected – and really rather  _hoped_ – that she was having him on. Still, doing muggle drugs wasn't actually against any of the Ministry's rules and regulations. Mostly because not many wizards cared to do them, and also, muggle drugs usually never landed a person in St. Mungo's, and when they did, the patient was easily fixed – as opposed to spell and potion damage. Thus, muggle drugs weren't classified as truly dangerous by the ministry. So, even if Pam were telling the truth, there wasn't much he could do about that.

He decided to press on. “Alright, so, getting straight to business, there's a meeting scheduled for – oh...” he cast a quick Tempus Charm. “About twenty minutes from now. It might end up being our first case together, and as sorry as I am to hear that your best friend is in a coma, I'm going to need you to have your head on straight if we're sent out into the field.”

Harry gave her a sympathetic smile. “And I do mean that. It must be rough to not know whether your best friend will ever wake up.”

“Meh,” Pam stated with a careless shrug. “Not as much as it is for his girlfriend and their baby. Or his mother. Holy dicknuts! That woman turns to blubber whenever he's hurt. And every time he goes missing for a month or two, she goes bat shit crazy and spends ungodly amounts of money to track his crab-ridden ass down and drag him back home.”

“Must be nice to have a mother that loves him so much,” Harry murmured since he didn't know what else to say. “Anyway, come on. We have just enough time to stop and grab a cup of tea before the meeting.”

“Ya got coffee?” Pam wondered curiously.

“I don't know. We might,” Harry answered with a shrug.

As it turned out, they did. Thus, when the meeting started, they were sat in the conference room, each holding a large mug of their preferred drink. Pam had added plenty of cream, sugar, and a good ounce or two of tequila – er  _apple juice_ – to her coffee, and now sat drinking it in silence. Harry wasn't entirely sure she was paying attention to anything.

Two minutes late, the Head Auror – Gawain Robards – swept in and promptly began the meeting. “Alright everyone, here's what's going on. Last night, we received an anonymous tip that a particular muggle gambling den  _might_ be selling a potion that is a combination of Calming Draught and Amortentia with something unknown mixed in. The potion is slipped to a victim, who then becomes very easy to manipulate and we're not entirely certain what happens to the victims because they have no memory of it afterwards. We need to send a team in undercover to be on the lookout for this potion – or any other illegal magical activity.”

Robards took a moment to drink from his mug, which probably contained tea. “In any case, this is probably going to be a fairly delicate matter since we won't want to send in anyone who's obviously in law enforcement. We'd need someone who is comfortable enough around gambling, alcohol, and drugs to fit in enough that they are accepted into the club fairly easily.”

Pam raised her hand, making Robards raise a brow at her. He wasn't used to being interrupted so soon, and in fact, most of his Aurors thought that asking questions of any sort was rather taboo and to be avoided at all costs. “Yes, Auror Poovey.”

“What kind of drugs do they have?” Pam asked.

“Does that really matter?” Robards wondered, slightly baffled.

“Well yeah,” Pam stated as if this should be obvious. “Because if all they have is cocaine, then I should probably sit this one out. But if they have anything else, I can totally handle it. And also, I'm shit at gambling, unless they have fighting rings. Oh god! Do they have fighting rings? Please say they do!”

“Er...” Robards droned for a second, feeling slightly off balance. “I think they deal mainly in opium.”

“Yes!” Pam hissed happily, throwing her hands up in the air.

“And as for fighting rings, I don't know. We don't have quite enough intel to know for sure.”

“Meh, opium and fighting rings don't go well together since opium tends to make a person feel happy and dreamy, so they probably don't. That said, it also depends on how big the place is. If it's big enough, it could have a little bit of everything,” Pam explained.

Robards cleared his throat and decided to get back to his briefing. “So, the mission is to infiltrate the club and surreptitiously look for evidence of illegal potions activity. If there is, try to determine  _who_ is actually involved in the sales. Don't try to arrest anyone just yet as we'll need to organize a raid. Also, we do know for certain that this potion is being sold around London; so, if it doesn't look to be at this club, we'll move on to a different location.”

“Do any of these locations involve street racing?” Pam asked avidly.

Robards had to think about this for a moment. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure he knew what street racing was, but he could guess it was probably a bit like illegal broom racing, but with muggle vehicles. “Possibly.”

“Yes!” Pam hissed happily again. “If there is, _please_ let me in on that one – unless you have someone else good at drifting – because I'm actually known as Shiro Kabocha in the street racing scene – although my car is back in America. Or did I end up selling it... I was high as _balls_ that night and don't quite remember.”

Robards was tempted to rub his temples. When MACUSA had sent Auror Poovey to him saying that she had skills they might find helpful with the possible illegal potions ring – which they had been gathering intel on for quite some time – he'd honestly thought that they were just using it as an excuse to be rid of an annoyance for a little while. Now he realized that it might actually have been  _both_ . That they not only wanted to get rid of her, but that she also had skills he might find useful.

“Alright, Poovey, if I assigned you to this club tonight, how would you go about fitting in and finding our potion?” The Head Auror asked.

“Easy peasy!” Pam stated with a snort and a grin. “I'll gamble – and probably loose so you'll want to give me a nice budget that you can write off – but I'll also drink and do drugs and basically have a kick ass time. While I'm making friends, my partner here can keep his eyes and ears open for anything suspicious. Right Harry?” As she asked this, she lightly backhanded him on the arm. “Although, I'm probably going to have to call you a pussy and a worry wort to explain why you're not having any fun.”

Harry snorted in amusement as almost everyone else in the room went bug eyed. “Yeah. We pose as a couple. You're the outgoing partier, and I'm shy and anxious that you're going to overdose and die.”

“That hasn't happened before. Shitsnacks! Even that year I ate nothing but cocaine in amounts large enough to take down a bear, all that actually happened to me was that I lost a bunch of weight, turned into the she-hulk when I was pissed off, and all my friends thought I was a complete asshole. Oh, that reminds me, obviously I have a problem with cocaine – I love it like it was an all you can eat buffet – and I would literally _murder_ somebody for some migas right now! Anyway, if you see me about to take cocaine – any other drug is fine – but seriously, if I'm about to do cocaine, I need you to grab me by the collar and smack me repeatedly as hard as you can. Maybe straight up punch me until I pass out. Fair warning, I fight back.”

“Er...” Harry said with a raised brow. “I'm not sure I can promise that. But a covertly cast stunner seems reasonable.”

A very fussy looking man with brown hair and eyes cleared his throat delicately, and when Robards glanced at him, said: “How in Merlin's beard did someone like you become an Auror?” 

Pam looked over at him and affected a haughty air – as if suddenly becoming a snob. “Those triflin' bitches at MACUSA abducted me in the dead of night and offered to pay me a shitload of money to work a case that's really not too different than this one.”

Robards cleared his throat. “And I read the reports of her mission. She did a good job, despite her highly unorthodox methods. Thus, yes, we brought her over to work on this case. That's also why we paired her with Potter, since he's an Auror we feel will have the ability to not only gather up all the intel we need, but also adapt to any situation they find themselves in.”

“Meaning that he's crazy and reckless, and together, the two of them have a high chance of bollocksing everything up!” Mr. Priss grumbled a bit petulantly.

“Look, Auror Thompson,” Robards said, addressing Mr. Priss. “I think it is obvious to everyone here that if we sent _you_ into the club on this mission, you'd probably be kicked out in the first five minutes. This particular mission calls for someone who can handle doing those things that almost no one in our department is comfortable doing. Thus, I would appreciate it if you show a little common courtesy to our American friend here.”

“Sir!” Auror Thompson protested. “She's highly unprofessional! She'll bring nothing but shame to our department!”

“Shut yer dick-holster, little miss hostile work environment!” Pam spat at him. “I'm here because this is what I'm good at. You can either accept that and try to get along with me, or we can step out back and I can shut yer dickhole with my fists!”

“This is a Ministry of _Magic_!” Thompson pointed out. “We do _not_ settle our differences with our fists but with our wands – and in fact, we are far more civilized than even that!” He then turned to glare at Harry, who was still busy sniggering over the term _dick-holster_.

Robards sighed and held up his hands before anyone could say anything else. “Settle down. Potter, you take Poovey to the training room and get a good feel for her fighting capability. Then you two should take off for lunch, grab a nap, eat dinner, and head on off to the club.”

“Yes sir,” Harry agreed quickly, grateful to get out of the meeting before it went even farther downhill.

Aurors were required to know some basic self defense in case they found themselves unarmed in the field. That said, not many Aurors bothered to keep up the practice more often than they had to – which was basically a refresher course a couple of weeks each year. Thus, when Pam entered the training room and found a few curious Aurors who really only wanted to see if she had anything in her to back up her mouth, she started laughing in a rather insane way and invited all comers to try to take her down.

Less than a half an hour later, Harry was amazed to see that all his fellow Aurors were panting heavily as they rested on the floor. They all sported a variation of black eyes, broken noses, and bloody lips – among other wounds. Their training instructor had come in at some point to watch and was now crowing in delight as he made plans to have Pam work as an aide during his classes.

Pam was single-handedly becoming a case study in why squibs might actually make decent Aurors after all.

Harry cast a Tempus Charm. It wasn't technically time for lunch yet, but they didn't really have anything to do until they went to the club later on, so Harry shrugged. He could show Pam around the city and basically kill two Hippogriffs with one boulder.

He held a hand out to her. “That was brilliant! Are you hungry? We could go grab something to eat.”

“Am I hungry?!” Pam asked incredulously. “Where's the damn fish balls, already? I could kill for some food!”

“Fish and chips it is,” Harry stated with a grin.”

 

***

 

After buying Pam an order of fish and chips from the best nearby street vendor, in Harry's opinion, he walked her around town. Pointing out the local landmarks was interesting in that Pam didn't care about the history, but still seemed to make a mental note of them anyway. At one point, he asked her where she was staying.

She shrugged. “No idea. I only Portkeyed into the Ministry from America this morning, and I was immediately brought to see our boss, and then sent to meet with you.”

“That sounds about right for our Ministry,” Harry muttered with a sigh. “Come on, we'll grab some take away and bring it back to mine. You can stay there with me and my friends for as long as you're in London.”

Pam chuckled suggestively. “Sweet! Like a bachelor pad? Am I going to be surrounded by horny men who appreciate a girl who knows how to suck dick?”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Sorry, no. My best mates – Ron and Hermione – are a couple. And exclusive, so they won't like it if you try to chat either of them up.”

“Well, that's no fun, but alright...” Pam muttered with a shrug.

They Apparated into Grimmauld Place in time to just be able to dish up all the Chinese food they'd ordered before Hermione arrived home for her lunch break. Ron appeared mere seconds later.

Harry grinned at them and gestured to indicate first the food, and then Pam. “I bought lunch. This here is my new partner for... I'm not sure actually. At least as long as it takes to solve our new case. Auror Poovey –” 

“You can all call me Pam. As you might guess, Poovey is easy to make fun of, and while I've heard it all and it doesn't bother me, I still prefer Pam.”

Harry shrugged. “Alright, Pam, these are my best mates – Ron and Hermione.”

“Mates as in people you have sex with every chance you get? I thought you said they were exclusive and I shouldn't hit on them,” Pam pointed out.

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Mates as in friends.”

Pam shook their hands, even though they both seemed at least a little reluctant.

“Er... pleasure to meet you,” Hermione murmured diplomatically.

“You must be pretty powerful if they paired you with Harry,” Ron added.

“Actually, I'm a squib,” Pam stated, and then turned to Harry. “Wha'da'ya got to drink in this place?”

“Er, water, tea, butterbeer, ale, juice, erm...”

“Do you have any orange juice?” Pam asked with interest. “And cherries?”

“Actually, yes,” Harry answered with a smile. “Kreacher, bring my guest a tall glass of orange juice and a bowl of depitted cherries.”

“Yes Master,” the crotchety old house elf grumbled. A moment later, he appeared with the requested items.

“Holy shitsnacks! I've never _seen_ a house elf before! Hi, I'm Pam. Thanks for bringing me this!”

Harry chuckled. “Kreacher, Pam is going to be staying here for the foreseeable future, so I expect you to obey her.”

“Wait wait wait!” Pam blurted out excitedly. “Can I order him to do _anything_?”

Harry hesitated. “Er... no. You can't order him to do anything that would harm anyone in  _any_ way.”

“Aww dickballs! There goes all my fun,” Pam grumbled before shoving some of the food on her plate into her mouth with a set of chopsticks. With her other hand, she mashed the cherries with a fork until they were fairly pureed. Then she dumped a good bit of the puree in her glass of orange juice.

Hermione looked at least half scandalized. “Er...  _why_ is Pam going to be staying here?”

“Why not? She's an American so she doesn't know her way around the city. She's a squib so she can't just Apparate to work each day, and most importantly, I have plenty of room here. It just seems like the best solution all around,” Harry explained with a shrug. He watched Pam take out her bottle of tequila and pour a large amount into her orange juice. He smirked at her. “I thought you said that _that_ was actually apple juice.”

“That's the _other_ bottle of tequila I have in my pocket. This one actually _is_ tequila – since it is now officially lunch time and I don't have to work again until we go to the club tonight,” Pam informed him.

Harry laughed, realizing that she probably didn't have actual apple juice in her pocket at all. She took a long swig directly from the bottle, and then put it back in her pocket.

Lunch passed with Pam mostly listening quietly as the other three talked about their respective days. Hermione had just gotten a new client with a difficult case, and Ron and George were having a fairly slow day in their shop, but hoped that it would pick up after lunch. When they were done eating, Harry directed Pam to the nearest bathroom, and then noticed his friends giving him concerned looks.

“What?”

“How can a squib be an Auror?” Ron asked with a frown. “I remember quite clearly that students needed to obtain a lot of NEWTs before they would even be accepted into the training program. Do Americans have such lax standards in comparison?”

“Well I don't know about American Aurors in general, but I do know that Pam was specifically sought out and made an Auror because she has a lot of experience in the field – specifically related to the case that we are currently working on,” Harry explained.

“But she'd basically defenseless,” Hermione protested gently. “What's she going to do if you find yourselves in a room full of dark wizards casting nasty curses at you two?”

“Probably punch them all unconscious,” Harry guessed with a shrug.

“And what if she's just some star-eyed groupie more interested in reporting everything you do to the Prophet than working with you?” Ron wondered.

Harry shook his head. “I suppose she could be lying, but I really don't think she has the first clue who I am.”

“Seriously?” Ron and Hermione blurted out together in shock.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I like her so far. She's funny and she makes me laugh. I think I've laughed more in the few hours since I've met her than I have in the last few weeks.”

“Well, that's all well and good,” Hermione began. “But that doesn't cover your back if things go all pear shaped.”

“Strangely, I'm not worried,” Harry murmured with a small smile.

“ _Whew_!” Pam cried out from up the stairs where she had just emerged from the bathroom. “You are _not_ going to want to use this bathroom for a while! It smells like that guy and his violin that the Yakuza dissolved in a big drum of acid after he sold me a million dollars worth of amphetamines for counterfeit money that we got stuck with on a cocaine deal gone wrong!”

“What?!” Harry asked, unable to stop himself from laughing.

“Or at least what I imagine he smelled like,” Pam added as she stepped off the last stair. “I didn't actually get a whiff of him. I was only told about him over the phone when the Yakuza boss told me that he was coming for my head. Which led to a shoot out in Cheryl's freakin' ginormous mansion, but it all worked out when my bestie managed to get Mr. Moto alone in a limo and shot at him until he agreed to make a deal and leave me alone.”

“Er... I can't quite tell if these stories you tell me are true,” Harry informed her with a laugh.

“Every word,” Pam assured him.

Ron cleared his throat, deciding that it was time to turn the conversation back toward more familiar waters. “So, er, how is it working with  _ the Harry Potter _ so far?”

“Why in Cheryl's empty dusty old “vagine” does everyone think I should know you from any other lickbag off the street?!” Pam asked Harry in frustration.

He laughed again. “You see?” Harry asked Ron and Hermione. “I really think she doesn't know.”

“What in the goat-raping pig devils are you talking about?!” Pam demanded, finally looking something less than cheerful.

“Wow, it's so strange to have to explain this to... _anybody_! But basically, there was an evil terrorist trying to kill me since I was a baby. He also wanted to take over the world – or at least Britain. When I was 17, I finally managed to defeat him and save the Wizarding World – and so I am pretty famous and considered a hero,” Harry explained as succinctly as possible.

Pam flapped a hand at him dismissively. “Who  _hasn't_ had a terrorist after them? The head of the KGB – or one of them anyway – has been trying to kill my best friend for years, and since the dude is a nearly indestructible cyborg, he's a real pain in the ass to deal with. We  _thought_ he'd finally died when he abducted me and strung me up as bait, so we shot him full of exploding rounds and then lit his ass and the whole frickin' grain silo on fire, but then he showed up about a year later and forced us all to help him, so apparently he's not dead after all. Shitsnackin' crackers! I just realized that I get abducted a lot...” Pam squinted her eyes speculatively. “Like three or four times in the past six or seven years. Wait.  _Is_ that a lot? Or is that just normal?”

“No, that's very much _not_ normal,” Hermione assured her. “And cyborgs aren't real.”

Pam snorted in amusement. “Aww, what a sweet fairy tale you live in!”

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't say anything.

Harry decided it was time to change the subject. “Why don't I show you which room you'll be staying in. You can try to nap as suggested – if you want – and I'll be sure to wake you in time for dinner?”

“Sure,” Pam acquiesced with a shrug. “Got any cockporn lying around? I can watch it and masturbate until my fingers bleed, and then I'll probably be able to sleep for a little while.”

Harry spluttered for a moment, and then roared with laughter. “Can't say that I do!”

“Why? Afraid that yer friends here'll judge you if you say it out loud?” Pam wondered, jabbing a thumb in the direction of Ron and Hermione, who were also goggling at her a bit incredulously.

Still laughing, Harry shook his head. “No, just that my porn tends to be simple – naked wizarding pictures of Quidditch players.”

Pam patted him on the arm. “Whatever floats yer boat.” She shrugged. “I like my porn to be rather hardcore – double and triple stuffed, gangbangs, creampies, and the occasional bondage fantasy.”

“What the?!” Hermione blurted out. “ _Why_ would you think that was an appropriate thing to talk about with someone you _just met_?!”

Pam turned to look at her curiously. “How else do you find out what someone likes and make friends?”

“By talking about things like _food_ and _books_ you like!” Hermione insisted

Pam shrugged. “Harry and I are going on a mission tonight in which we are going to pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend – which means that we should know at least a little about each other. Who's to say that the topic of porn won't come up? Seems like something a couple ought to know about each other.”

“Can't actually argue that,” Harry murmured with a hum of thought. “Although I hadn't really thought about it like that.”

Hermione let out a small sigh of exasperation. “Ron and I  _are_ a couple and I can assure you that porn is  _not_ a topic that comes up very often.”

Pam shrugged again. “Maybe not, but I am pretty sure that you don't often go out to a club to drink, do drugs, and gamble. It might come up more often if you did.”

“Come on,” Harry insisted, grabbing Pam's hand and dragging her up the stairs.

After they were gone, Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and kissed it. “Try not to form an opinion about her just yet,” he advised.

“Oh Ron, I'm so afraid that Harry's going to get killed because his partner is more interested in porn and drugs than in watching his back,” Hermione murmured sadly.

Ron sighed, not able to fully shake the exact same fear. “Well, we just have to pray that she's better at her job than it appears.”

Hermione rested her head on his chest and let him comfort her by rubbing her back.

 

***

 

Harry briefly wondered if his denim trousers and favorite Beetles tee shirt were actually too low key for the club. Pam was wearing a knee length blue skirt and a tight shirt that made her look both pretty and... well, like a slag. Especially with her hair and makeup done the way it was. He grabbed her hand and entwined their fingers together.

“Are you ready?”

Pam laughed merrily. “I have a feeling that I'm a good three times more ready than you are.”

With a nod, Harry opened the door to the club and escorted her inside. They made their way to the bar, taking a good look around as they went. The main part of the club appeared to be fairly normal for a dance club – not to mention  _loud_ .

At the bar, Pam slapped her hand down in front of the bartender. “I want a pitcher of Green Russian! Harry, babe, what do you want?”

“A screwdriver,” he replied, opting for something that wouldn't be too alcoholic if he actually drank it – though he planned to transfigure the vodka into more orange juice so that he would remain sober and clearheaded. 

“Alright,” the bartender stated in acknowledgment. He made Harry's drink first because both ingredients were on hand. Then he grabbed a pitcher and filled it with equal parts milk, vodka, and absinthe, and then added a half part of Crème de Menthe. Pam pointed at a carton of cream, so the bartender shrugged and added a bit of that to the pitcher as well. He served it to her with a quoted price.

Harry pulled out the wad of muggle cash that had been owled to him about an hour after they ate dinner. They'd both been given a budget of 2500 pounds, but he figured that a boyfriend should pay for his girlfriend's drinks – at least at first.

When the bartender handed Pam a glass to drink her drink out of, she grinned at him. “Hey, where can a girl play poker around here?”

The bartender pointed to a hallway off to the side. “There's poker and other forms of gambling back there.”

“Thanks man!” Pam exclaimed happily, tossing him a bit more money as a tip. 

He nodded and smiled at her. “Good luck!”

Pam carried her pitcher in one hand and drank from her glass in the other as she led the way to the hallway. When she found a room that had a lot less cigarette smoke in it than the others – not to mention a couple of open seats – she swept into the room with a grin.

“What's the buy in?” She asked as she set her pitcher on the table, then she changed her mind, downed the rest of the drink in her glass, and refilled it before setting the pitcher back on the table.

“Two hundred pounds,” the dealer answered. He watched with mild suspicion as both Harry and Pam pulled money out of their pockets and separated out the required amount. Then he smiled at them welcomingly and explained all the rules that were unique to their establishment.

Over the next hour, Harry lost more than he won since he had never really played poker before and didn't have the best poker face. He also had to seriously wonder if Pam had had someone cast a sobriety charm on her – or take a potion or something – because she was about halfway through her pitcher and didn't seem any more drunk than ever, and she hadn't seemed drunk even after he watched her drink tequila straight from the bottle! Meanwhile, Pam didn't even bother with a poker face, being happy and talkative the entire time. She also tended to win about a third of the time – which those playing with her tended to ascribe to sheer drunken luck.

Since Harry didn't want to blow their cover, he frequently grabbed her hand to hold it for a few seconds, or kiss it. He also rubbed her arm from time to time, and brushed her hair out of her face. She'd always grin at him, and occasionally return his sweetness with a kiss.

Suddenly, Pam slapped her hand down on the table and blurted out: “Man! Who's a girl gotta blow around here to get some heroin or some LSD or something?!” She then downed the rest of the liquid in her glass and belched.

The dealer smiled at her. “No blowing necessary – although if your boyfriend weren't right there, I wouldn't pass that up. We deal opium almost exclusively here, so would you prefer to hit the pipe or chase the dragon?”

“Give me a straw and I'll chase that bitch all over town!” Pam declared with glee.

“What about you, sir?” The dealer asked Harry.

Harry didn't have to fake a blush. He ducked his head shyly. “Er, no thanks. I'm not into any of that. She's the one who loves to party and I come along to make sure that she isn't beaten or raped or anything.”

“Wise decision,” the dealer murmured. “And I'll admit that you have more patience for your girlfriend than I would. I'd have smacked her until she shut her fat gob a long time ago.”

Pam snorted in amusement. “Try it buddy and see how far it gets you!”

The dealer looked over to the man who had just entered the room. He was one of the men whose job was to handle the drugs and had come into the room because the dealer had pressed a button that called for him. The man also carried the drink that Harry had ordered a few minutes ago, which he handed to Harry with a tiny polite smile.

The dealer pointed to Pam, who grinned and waved at the drug man.

“Where's my straw?” Pam asked eagerly.

The man simply reached into his pocket and handed one to her. Then he opened a case and selected a pea-sized dark amber glob of what looked like a resin of some sort. He set up a little platform made out of wire and aluminum foil, placed the glob on it, and then used a handheld butane torch to heat the glob up.

When it started to produce smoke, Pam sucked it up through the straw, continuing to do so until the man shut off the torch and the smoke stopped. She exhaled a long purring sigh as she set the straw down.

“Ah..... yeah... That's the stuff.”

The dealer and one of the other players laughed somewhat maliciously. “She's going to be too out of it to play now!”

Pam snorted in amusement. “Maybe if I were a pussy! It's going to take a hell of a lot more than this to knock Pam Poovey off her ass!”

The drug man held out his hand and waited until she paid him for the drug. She promptly did so and handed him a nice tip as well.

Pam turned to Harry and kissed him hard. “God! If I had a dick I would be so frickin' hard right now! Hey honey! We should get a hooker!”

“What?!” Harry spluttered incredulously.

“Yeah, a hot one! And then we can take turns doing her – you with your huge dick and my with my big ass strap on!”

“Pam honey, we are _not_ getting a hooker,” Harry stated in a tone like he was trying to explain something to a four year old.

“But why not?” Pam asked with a whine. “It'll be so much fun!”

“Because you made me promise that we wouldn't leave here until you won at least twice what you started with – or lost it all, whichever comes first,” Harry explained patiently.

“But I'm already up like 200 bucks!” Pam protested.

“No! And besides, I don't even know where we'd find a hooker,” Harry pointed out.

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” the dealer informed them with an amused grin even as he dealt out the next hand.

Pam looked at her cards and squealed with glee. “After I win this hand, I say we go pick out a hooker!”

“Pam...” Harry half growled and half begged.

“Or wait!” Pam interrupted herself. “Is there a fighting ring around here?”

“Down the hall, five doors on the right,” the dealer answered, chuckling now at how bubbly she had become. This wasn't normal as most people on opium became quiet and dreamy. That said, it did actually make a small percentage of people giddy and horny.

Pam poured herself another drink from her pitcher as they played the round. Sure enough, she ended up winning with the three aces that had been originally dealt to her. Crowing in triumph, she cashed out and dragged Harry down the hall, making him hold her pitcher – which was a little under half full – while she held her glass.

Harry was surprised to find that the room was a lot bigger than he expected. It was packed with men who formed a circle around two fighters in the middle. Everyone was shouting encouragement to one of the two. Pam half dragged Harry as she pushed their way through to the center.

“Out of the way, girl coming through!” Pam roared. Surprisingly, men were so taken aback by this that they made way.

In Harry's opinion, the two men in the makeshift ring seemed to be trying to murder one another with their fists. Both were already fairly bloodied, and Harry wasn't sure who was actually winning. Suddenly, the bigger of the two knocked the other one out cold – causing howls of dismay from about half the audience and loud cheering from the other.

The referee barely declared the man the winner before the ref asked if there was anyone else who wanted to step into the ring and take on the champion.

“I will!” Pam called out, waving the hand that had been dragging Harry.

“You can't! You're a woman!” The referee protested.

“Are you whining like a bitch because there's an actual rule against it or because you're so terrified that I'll kick all your asses that it's taking everything you have not to wet your pretty little panties?” Pam demanded fiercely.

This made the ref pause. “Actually... there's no rule against women fighting here.”

“I thought not!” Pam stated with a grin. She finished what was in her glass and handed it to Harry to hold. “Here, hold this for me babe, and place at least 500 on me because I'm going to win this so hard that guy won't be able to see straight for days!”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Harry asked in a whisper.

“Definitely,” Pam assured him before giving him a kiss. “And don't worry about me. How do you think I put myself through college?”

She stepped into the ring, and then held up a hand asking the ref and the other fighter to wait a moment. “Shit, this is my favorite shirt. One sec...” She bade just before she stripped off her shirt and tossed it to Harry.

Harry was actually busy handing the requested 500 over to one of the men in charge of the bets. Thus, he didn't notice the shirt being tossed at him until it landed on his head, startling him enough that he nearly dropped the pitcher. He managed to keep hold of it as he grabbed the shirt off his head and stuffed it in his back pocket as much as possible.

“And honey, every time I win, take a shot of my drink for me!” Pam ordered.

Harry shrugged and agreed because even he honestly didn't think she'd win at all, let alone enough times for him to get drunk.

Then the fight started. It was fairly primal with not much for sophistication or technique. Just two people trying to knock each other out while simultaneously avoiding being knocked out. Pam's back was to Harry, and since her shirt was off, he could see that she had tattoos on her back. At the very top, across her shoulders, were score marks that totaled 13. Under that was written something that Harry just couldn't make out because she was constantly in motion – not to mention her bra strap covered part of it – but it looked like a poem or something.

The shouting started out as loud as ever, but gradually got quieter and quieter as Pam not only held her own, but slowly appeared to be winning. When she knocked the previous champ out, the entire crowd gasped in shock, except for two spectators and Harry. The spectators were the only ones who had taken a risk on Pam and were now fairly flush because of it.

Before even the referee could recover and declare her the winner, Pam threw her fists in the air in triumph and cried out: “Which one of you pussies wants to fight me next?”

As men looked around at each other, wondering if it was a fluke, Harry quickly obtained his winnings and put 500 on her next fight. He also took the shot he promised he would, coughing a couple of times since he hadn't expected it to be so strong.

When Pam won the second time, Harry glared at the man giving him his winnings because the amount wasn't as much. The man rolled his eyes. “Look, the first time, no one thought she had a snowball's chance in hell of winning, so the odds were ten to one. But she won and proved that she has at least one win in her, so the odds went to eight to one. If she fights again, it'll be six to one, and so on until it stays at two to one – but I highly doubt she'll make it that far.”

Strangely, even though Harry and a handful or so of men kept winning off her, most of the others were determined to believe that she couldn't possibly win  _another_ round. The club itself was thrilled because it was making an absolute  _killing_ off her. When Pam won her sixth round and learned that the odds were now holding at two to one, she shrugged her shoulders and threw up her hands as if in surrender.

“If yer only winning a thousand smackers a fight, Harry, then it's just not worth it to me.” She walked out of the ring with surprising grace, considering that she looked like an utter wreck. One man was upset that he wouldn't have a chance to put her in her place and so stepped in her way, but she knocked him out with a single punch.

The nearest man in charge of the bets roared with laughter and tossed her 500 pounds as a reward for winning the unofficial fight. He then tossed her the amount that was her percentage of the profits for winning. Since this was her percentage of what the club won off her, It was quite a lot. Harry could now see how she'd been able to pay for college!

As they were leaving the fight room, a man who worked at the club stepped in their way. “Hold on a moment, pretty lady,” he said in a very smarmy tone of voice. “How would you like a seat at the extremely exclusive high rollers table?”

Harry, having taken seven shots of her drink – which was not quite two full glasses that she had been downing like water all night – was feeling rather tipsy. He frowned because he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. At the same time, Pam took her glass back from him and filled it from the pitcher – which was now about a third full. She downed her drink with a happy exhalation.

“Gods I _needed_ that!” Then she tilted her head at the smarmy man. “I'm getting a little tired and kinda want to go put a nice fatty steak on my eye. What's in it for me if I go play with your high rollers?”

The man looked around, and then ushered them into an empty room two doors down the hall. Once inside with the door shut, he reached into his inner suit jacket pocket and pulled out a vial about two inches long by half an inch in diameter.

“I'm told you liked chasing the dragon. We could always give you as many hits as you like for free while you play. _Or_ – and this is even better – we could let you have some of this.”

“What is that?” Pam asked with definite interest.

“We call it liquid lust,” the man replied with a knowing grin. “It'll make you happy and horny in the very best way. There's even a few _beautiful_ women in the high roller room willing to use their hands and mouths on you whilst you play.”

Pam groaned longingly. “I tell you what, dude, I'mma come back tomorrow night when I'll be able to enjoy it a lot more – and the swelling in my eye has gone down.”

The man frowned, glancing at the thick wads of cash she had stuffed into her bra like bizarre padding. “Then why not take a dose of this now and let me check your winnings into a safe so that you can't get robbed between now and tomorrow.”

“Sorry dude, but nope!”

Harry could see the man winding himself up for a fight, and decided to cast a covert Confundus Charm. This immediately made the man act like he was too high to notice anything at all for just long enough for Harry to grab the vial from him. He then thanked him for the offer, gently pushed him out of the way, and half dragged Pam until they were completely out of the club and in the nearest alley. After making sure that it was safe, Harry Apparated them home.

“Whooo-ooo!” Pam cheered joyously. She threw her arms around Harry and jumped up and down, somehow managing to _not_ spill the pitcher she still clutched in her right hand. “We did it! Mission accomplished!”

“That we did,” Harry agreed with a grin.

“What the bloody hell happened to you?!” Hermione roared in astonishment.

“Yeah, did you get into a bar fight?” Ron added. They had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for Harry to return from his mission because they were so very worried about him. Now, they were seriously concerned about Pam because she looked like someone had tried to murder her with a sledgehammer.

Pam pushed Harry into a chair, thrust her glass into his hand, filled it, and then clinked it in cheers with the pitcher. “We're no longer on duty, dude, so stop being such a lightweight pussy and drink up!” She proved her point by downing the rest of the pitcher in a series of large gulps.

Harry huffed a surprised laugh. “This drink is strong! You're going to kill yourself like that!” Even as he said that, he downed his drink, coughed once, and then grinned at his best friends. “We did it!” He held up the vial he was still holding in his hand.

Pam finished chugging her drink, thumped the pitcher onto the table, and then pulled the wads of money out of her bra and tossed them on the table so that she'd be able to count her earnings. She picked up one of the bills and swayed a little as she squinted at it.

“I can't tell, is this a 20 or a 50?”

Harry looked at the bill. “It's a 50 – no, a 500!”

“Alright,” Pam stated.

Harry also tossed his money onto the table. “So, we have to give back what the Ministry gave us, but they don't need to know about our winnings. That said, I'm going to put mine into my expense account so that I can buy tea and biscuits from that lovely shop down the street rather than choke down the shite they serve us in the break room.”

“How much did you win?” Pam asked curiously.

“Sixteen thousand, minus the 300 I lost at poker,” Harry informed her.

Pam growled in frustration. “My vision keeps going blurry, so I'm having trouble counting this, but I'm going to assume that it's more than a hundred thousand if they wanted to invite me into the high rollers room.”

“Can you believe that man was going to drug you so that you'd lose all your money and not remember any of it?” Harry asked with a glare at the table, wishing it was the man so he could punch him.

“That would not be the first time that has happened,” Pam stated with a careless shrug. Then she pushed on the puffy part of her right eye in an attempt to see better.

“Oh for the love of!” Hermione muttered in exasperation as she pulled out her wand and cast a healing charm on Pam.

“So, er,” Ron began, eyeing all the money with clear interest. “How exactly did you win all that?”

Harry got a strange look on his face. “I don't think you are going to believe me, but... Pam entered the fighting ring and won six matches in a row.”

Ron eyed Pam up and down in surprise. “I suppose that also explains why you look beat up.” 

Pam simply nodded. She was still prodding her face to see if there was any tenderness left. The charm had healed everything, but it had left colorful bruising, which Pam didn't mind at all.

“That's also the reason why Pam won so much,” Harry continued. “She earned a percentage of the club's profits, and because the majority of the men betting were too stubborn to admit that she was going to win again, the club basically won everything. Thus,” he jabbed his thumb in the direction of her pile of cash.

“ _Fuck_...” Ron swore in awe.

Hermione couldn't decide if she wanted to disapprove of fighting in general, or gloat because a woman had literally used nothing but her fists to prove that women were just as good as men if they wanted to be. She decided to compromise and say nothing.

Harry looked over at Pam. If he was feeling fuzzy, she had to be pissed out of her mind. “You got to be ready to pass out by now. Come on, let me get you to bed.”

“Hooray!” Pam cheered with no shame whatsoever. “I finally get to show you just how good I am at sucking a man dry!”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “I dead certain you're too drunk for that.”

Pam snorted. “Pfft, please! I could probably drink another half a pitcher before I was too drunk to give a fantastic blowjob!”

Harry held up the pitcher – which held a good four litres – in amazement. “I only drank three glasses of whatever was in this and I feel half pissed. You drank the rest! How can you still be awake?!”

“Because I'm not a pussy!” Pam announced with glee.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry agreed with a resigned laugh. He stood up and held out his hand to her. 

As they walked away, Hermione muttered to Ron: “You think he'll shag her?”

Ron shrugged. “Why not? He seems to like her and she isn't some groupie dying to report it in the Prophet. I say let him have some fun while he can.”

“See, that's what I'm worried about,” Hermione said with a sigh of defeat. “He _does_ seem to like her, and she is obviously not the right person for him. I think that he won't be able to have meaningless sex with her, and so he'll at least half fall for her, and then when she leaves to go back to America, it'll break his heart.”

Ron shrugged again. “So we remind him from time to time that the relationship isn't likely to last. Warn him that he needs to keep his heart out of it so that it's not broken when she goes home.”

Hermione sighed again, but nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Harry opened the door to Pam's room for her. “You did well tonight.”

“Thanks partner!” Pam accepted with a grin. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “We did good together.”

When she kissed him, Harry felt all his resistance melt. He had a distinct moment of:  _aw fuck it_ ! He tugged on her ample arse until she took the hint and hopped up to wrap her legs around his waist, then he carried her into her room – kicking the door shut behind them. 

One small part of his brain watched what was happening in fascination. He wasn't one to shag someone he just met, but this felt almost inevitable to him. To be honest, she was about to be the first person he'd actually gone to bed with since he broke up with Ginny over a year ago. His only other sexual experiences just so happened to be, well...

A series of mutual oral gratification in the loo with a certain platinum blond git with steely gray eyes. It happened every two to three months and was more of a way to avoid a nasty public fight than anything. Plus, a good way to relieve some stress, which Harry had almost desperately needed each time.

By the time they hit the bed, Pam had already torn Harry's shirt off and Harry had unfastened her bra, which he pulled off and flung to the side. He then focused on palming and licking her large soft breasts. She had at least a D cup, which was a lot more than Ginny, so he almost didn't know what to do with them.

“If you like those, let me show you something,” Pam offered with a grin. She rolled him onto his back, grabbed the bottle of her favorite oil from under the pillow, and then positioned herself between his legs. Using plenty of oil, she lubricated first her breasts, and then his shaft. Then she wrapped her breasts around his shaft and told him to squeeze them as tight as he could to hold them in place while she performed a maneuver a bit like doing push ups.

“Oh...” Harry exhaled because the feeling of soft and warm and silky was just so good.

Pam had long ago cultivated the ability to sense when a man was close to finishing. Thus, close to twenty minutes later when Harry felt like the end was imminent, she stopped and shifted to kiss him. He groaned in disappointment but since kissing her was nice too, he gave his all. After a minute or so, Pam shifted to straddle his waist and take him inside her.

Harry smiled, assuming that she would be like Ginny, ride him hard and fast and get him off so that they could snuggle up and go to sleep. Pam had other plans. She ground into him slowly, clenching her inner muscles rhythmically as if milking him. It took longer to get him close again, but it felt so damn good that he didn't particularly care.

When she sensed he was close again, she got off him and knelt next to him so that they could kiss some more. In this way, she extended what would have probably been a relative quickie by several hours, but finally, Harry was  _so ready_ to pump her full and pass out. She was on her hands and knees and he was pounding into her from behind. They were both repeatedly crying out: “Uh!” with every hard thrust. When Pam sensed he was close again and tried to kick him away so that they could change positions again, he wouldn't let her.

Instead, he reached around and helped her rub her clitoris rather roughly. She gasped and then couldn't catch her breath for a few seconds. Suddenly, she was wailing with climax, which triggered Harry's, who roared as he pumped her full. Harry sighed in profound relief and passed out.

When he woke up, it was to a blowjob so enthusiastic and skilled that his toes damn near curled into the soles of his feet.

“Merlin's pendulous bollocks! You're bloody _good_ at that!” He praised quite sincerely.

Pam chuckled and paused her task long enough to tell him that: “I love doing it. I've often been accused of handing blowjobs out like they were candy.”

“Er... practice makes perfect, I guess,” Harry said, and then gasped as she resumed her task and deep throated him. It didn't take too long for him to pump a load down her throat. He felt like he was floating on a cloud of bliss for a bit, and then sighed happily as he rolled onto his side to look at her. “How about you take a shower while I go make breakfast?”

Pam looked interested. But also, mildly disappointed, which Harry couldn't begin to guess why. “What'll you make?”

“What do you want?”

“Oh god! I could eat just about anything right now – as long as it's not made of soy. I'm seriously allergic to soy. That said, if you have an epipen or a spell to deal with severe swelling, I'd even eat soy.”

Harry raised a brow at that. “Er... I can't stand soy, so no worries there. Actually, I'm passionate about food, so I have some fabulous bacon and eggs from animals raised on organic farms. Along with artisanal sourdough bread and raw cheese and milk and jam –” 

Pam cut him off with a kiss. “Yes. All of that. And sausage. And hashbrowns – or however you want to fry the potatoes.”

Harry grinned at her. “No problem. See you in a bit.” He kissed her before slipping from the bed and pulling on his dark blue cotton pants that had black dots scattered across it in a spatter pattern.

In the kitchen a few minutes later, he discovered that Ron and Hermione were eating sandwiches and drinking tea. “Good morning,” he greeted cheerfully.

“Afternoon – or well, almost,” Hermione said, pointing at a clock that announced that it was ten to noon. “Gawain firecalled this morning to see how things went. I told him that you brought back a vial of the potion and that I'd be entirely shocked if you woke up before noon. He wants you to call him after you eat breakfast and give him a –” She fell silent when an owl flew into the room through a window warded specially to let owls in and out without letting in cold air or threats.

Harry took the parchment and paid the owl even as he was busy summoning a bunch of food out of the fridge and levitating it to the counter. “Seems like we're going to have an official meeting at one. It's  _Saturday_ !” He whinged. “We're supposed to have the day off!”

Ron smiled at him sympathetically. “Sorry mate. Hungover?”

“Not too bad,” Harry said with a shrug. “It'll probably go away on its own when I eat.” By this point, he was already loading everything up on a special magic skillet that would cook everything to perfection in two minutes.

“Sleep well?” Ron asked with a knowing smirk.

Harry chuckled. “Eventually, yes. I slept like the dead!”

“I'll bet! Hermione had to cast a silencing charm after about an hour so that we could catch some sleep of our own,” Ron informed Harry with a grin.

Harry blushed and looked away to hide it. “Sorry! Didn't realize we were being quite that loud.

“Are you _sure_ it was a good idea to shag your partner?” Hermione asked because she was worried that it would make it awkward for them to work together now.

“Well, good idea or not, it happened and it was brilliant!” Harry told her. “And if I'm honest, I'm quite looking forward to it happening again.”

“Please just be careful Harry,” Hermione begged lightly. “She's not going to be here forever and I don't want to see you get hurt.”

Harry dished the food onto a platter and set it on the table under a stasis spell. “I know. She's probably not going to be here very long at all, but I like her a lot. She's amazing! I've never known anyone like her. It's like she's not afraid of anything – not what people think of her, not what's appropriate to say out loud to others, not whether a man is twice her size and trying to knock her out. It's a little inspiring...”

Hermione smiled softly at him. “Actually, it is. I just wish she'd tone it down a little.”

Harry didn't respond. He had just enough time to steep a mug of tea before Pam came down the stairs. She was wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her hair.

“Hey babe, do you mind if I have a little hair of the dog?” Pam asked as she felt her pockets and realized that she didn't have a bottle of anything on her.

Harry chuckled. “You know, if you have a hangover, I can just give you a potion to cure it.”

“Holy shit-zombies! Are you freakin' kidding me?!” Pam exclaimed in excitement, and then winced and pressed a hand to her head.

“We keep plenty of potion around for after pub nights,” Harry explained, summoning a vial of potion and handing it to her. 

She downed it in one gulp and then sighed in relief as she felt it go to work. “God frickin' damnit! Too bad these bad boys can't be sold to regular people! This would make Monday morning – and shit!  _Every_ morning at the office so much easier to cope with! We could just put it in with the first pot of coffee and cure everyone at once!”

“That's not a half bad idea,” Harry murmured speculatively as he watched Pam dish up. “The Ministry could probably look into authorizing a special “blend” of coffee or tea that muggles could drink to cure their hangovers as a way to make extra income.” 

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, wondering if they actually could get the ministry to authorize that and allow Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes to sell the product. Ron turned his attention back to Pam.

“Do you mind if I ask what's tattooed on your back? I couldn't quite read it last night.”

Pam shrugged, stood up, and turned her back to them as she swallowed the food in her mouth, and then opened her bathrobe and let it drop to the floor. “It says:  _For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed: And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still!"_

“Alright... what's that mean?” Ron wondered, a bit flustered that she was literally standing naked in front of them as if she was used to almost complete strangers seeing her naked on a daily basis.

With a flick of his wand, Harry levitated her robe back up to her shoulders so that she could slip back into it. She did so with a smirk at him. When she sat back down, she answered the question.

“It's part of a poem by Lord Byron, and it means that when I fight someone, there's only two possible outcomes – I win while they're still alive, or I win because they died. That's what the thirteen is for.”

“Er...” all three members of the Golden Trio droned, honestly not sure whether to believe her.

Pam shrugged. “It a memorial to honor when I was fighting to put myself through college.”

Harry decided to change the subject. He cleared his throat. “Alright. So. Robards has scheduled a meeting for –” he paused to cast a Tempus Charm. “About 40 minutes from now. Which gives me plenty of time to finish eating and take a shower.”

 

***

 

“Merlin's hairy arse! What happened to you?!” Auror Thompson blurted out in shock when he saw Pam. Then he took a look at Harry and threw out his hands. “See?! _This_ is why squibs should be allowed to be Aurors. They can't defend themselves and apparently their partners can't either.”

Harry glared at Thompson while Pam busied herself eating the burrito made out of her leftover breakfast wrapped in a flour tortilla. “ _Actually_ , this happened while Pam was busy getting us exactly what we were looking for.” Harry was tempted to slam the vial onto the table, but set it down gently instead.

Robards took the vial and held it up to the light for inspection. “Alright. So tell us what happened.”

“Er... It'll be easier to just show you,” Harry said, squinting his eyes as he sorted through his memories. Pointing his wand at his head, he pulled out the first relevant one and set it in a Pensieve that had been redesigned by the R & D labs to project the images onto the wall. It showed Pam gaining trust during the poker game.

Robards smirked at Pam fondly. “How much did you win?”

“Enough to pay you guys back for the budget you gave me,” Pam stated, not willing to cheat herself out of money by letting him know there was a lot to claim.

The memory then showed her chase the dragon, win her hand, and drag Harry off to the fighting ring. At this point, Harry added the memory of the entire fight, which he let play on normal long enough for them to witness Pam make her way into the ring and demand the right to fight too. Then Harry fast-forwarded the memory until they were in the hall after Pam had summarily defeated all comers.

“And here is how we obtained the vial,” Harry explained as the smarmy man invited them into the empty room. When the man held up the vial, Harry continued. “I honestly have no idea how we would have confirmed that they had it and gotten our hands on it if not for Pam winning so much money. It seems to me that they like to save the drug for those who have something they want. In this case, they _really_ didn't want Pam to leave with all that money.”

Thompson was now eyeing Pam warily. “I revise my previous statement. Perhaps  _some_ squibs are qualified to be Aurors after all... but  _only_ because you have a talent for the low-born  _crass_ things that none of the rest of us would even think of doing.”

“Aww,” Pam purred as she flapped her hand at him. “Yer such a sweet talker. Keep that up and I might blush!”

Robards cleared his throat. “In any case, we've compiled a list of clubs and other places that we suspect might be selling this potion. From now until we decide to move forward with this case, the two of you will do nothing but visit all these clubs and do whatever it takes to find out if they're in on it or not. Since I imagine that most of this reconnaissance will take place on Friday and Saturday nights, you won't need to come into the office during the week – except for when called in for meeting, of which I expect there will probably be a lot. Once we have a clearer picture of just how big the problem is, we'll be able to plan out how to deal with it. Any questions?”

Pam raised her hand.

“Yes, Auror Poovey?”

“So, do I hand you back the budget you gave us or do I keep it for all the upcoming visits to the club?”

Robards smiled. “Keep it as I imagine that you'll need it. And if you happen to run out, fill out a requisition form for more.”

“Good to know!” Pam stated with a grin.

“Excellent. Meeting dismissed,” Robards announced.

Harry held out a hand to Pam. “Come on. Let's go put that money into our muggle expense accounts, and then we'll go on a tour of London so that you can find your way around.”

Pam placed her hand in his. “Aww honey, you know what I'd like even more?”

Harry hesitated since he was half certain something sexual was about to come out of her mouth. “Er... what?” 

“I'd like to go car shopping! I can almost guarantee that we're going to have to street race at some point, and I want to be ready.”

“I'm not sure I'd even know where to shop for those cars,” Harry murmured with a frown.

“Don't worry about that!” Pam assured him. “It's like an all you can eat buffet – I'll have it tracked down and giving me exactly what I want in less time than it takes you to figure out how to recite the alphabet backwards in your head!”

“Er...” Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that.

“Speaking of buffets, I could really go for Greek right about now. Do you know if there's a decent Greek restaurant around here?” She asked as she took another bite of her burrito.

“How can you still be hungry?!” Harry blurted out incredulously.

“Hmm? Oh! I smoked a joint before I took my shower and the munchies are finally kickin' in,” Pam explained.

Robards rubbed his forehead with a hand and sighed wearily. “I'll pretend I didn't hear that.”

“What?” Pam asked in a cross between annoyance and genuine curiosity. “That was before I had any idea we were going to be called in for a bit.”

“And besides, I double checked,” Harry added with a shrug. “And there's no rule against it.”

“I know,” Robards admitted. “Which is why I'm going to forget all about it, but in the future – Auror Poovey – please try to refrain from doing muggle drugs before coming to work or while on the job.”

Pam gave him a look that clearly wondered how stupid he was. “Duh! My entire job right now  _is_ doing muggle drugs!”

Head Auror Gawain Robards couldn't argue with that, so he simply sighed, gathered up all his files and other belongings, and left the room.

When Harry and Pam were alone – walking along the sidewalk leading away from the Ministry – Harry took hold of her hand again. “You know, we're going to be pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend for the foreseeable future for this case.”

“Yeah?” Pam asked, sounding only vaguely interested.

“And presumably, you'll want to keep having sex,” Harry added.

“Holy shit, do I ever?!” Pam exclaimed rather gleefully.

Harry huffed a soft laugh. It felt nice to be wanted so eagerly – by someone who didn't give a tug on Merlin's saggy tits who he was. Even better, when he'd tried to explain it to her, she'd been thoroughly unimpressed!

“Therefore, I think we should just do it for real – be boyfriend and girlfriend, that is,” Harry explained.

Pam stopped short and looked at Harry as if he had grown two or seven extra heads. “Do... D'you mean that?”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry confirmed with a soft smile.

“Oh wow...” Pam exhaled reverently, and then found herself utterly speechless.

Harry grinned, stepped closer to her, and then pulled her into his arms. He bent his head ever so lightly to kiss her. When the feeling like she had been hit by a Stunning Spell wore off, Pam wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight – which, since she was so strong, actually hurt him a bit.

Harry pulled back with a laugh. “I take it that's a yes?”

“Hell yeah!”

 

***

 

Over the next two months, Harry and Pam did nothing but survey clubs, report their findings, and shag like bunnies at the drop of a hat. Well, occasionally, Pam would take Harry for a ride in her car so that she could find good places to practice her best driving techniques. In any case, it felt a bit like a honeymoon to Harry.

Enough that his best friends were clearly worried.

Hermione had decided that while she didn't  _fully_ accept Pam's hedonistic ways, Pam herself was an interesting person to know. Ron had never really had a problem with her, and so both of them had more or less accepted her into their fold.

One Friday, Harry convinced Pam to forego an official visit to a club so that she could meet the rest of his friends. Thus, they planned to meet up with everyone at the Leaky at half eight. Harry and Pam arrived 15 minutes early so that Harry could make sure they had enough room for everyone – and order the first two rounds. Plus a pitcher of strawberry margaritas for Pam.

Pam decided the moment they stepped into the Leaky that she needed to visit the bathroom, thus when Harry levitated all the alcohol to the large table he'd reserved, he was all alone. A certain sly platinum blond decided that this was his cue to strike up a chat.

“Oi, Potter, it's been a while. Nearly four months, I think.”

“Hey Malfoy,” Harry returned the greeting. “Yeah, I suppose it has.”

Draco tilted his head in the direction of the loo. “You want to go have a bit of mutual stress relief?”

“Actually, I can't,” Harry declined apologetically. “I have a girlfriend.”

“The female weasel?” Draco asked curiously, wondering why Harry would take her back after she had dumped him to flit off around the world playing Quidditch.

“No,” Harry stated with a smile.

Just then, Draco caught sight of Pam, who looked like a cross between a secretary and a frumpy old house wife in a black knee-length skirt and a horizontally striped, button up jumper. A white belt encircled – and thus emphasized – her large waist.

Draco groaned in repugnance. “Remind me to create a potion for witches to take that will help them slim down and not look like beached whales.”

Harry glared at him. “What an arsehole thing to say!”

Pam spotted them and grinned. “Hey babe, wha'd'ja get me?”

Harry held up the pitcher of margaritas. “I made sure they put extra tequila in there, just the way you like it.”

“Aww, you're always so sweet to me!” Pam purred happily as she leaned over to give him a kiss. Then she looked at Draco. “Damn! This has got to be the prettiest man I've seen since that time at the county fair in which the local drag queen managed to win the beauty queen competition. Of course, that didn't end so well since the guys soon realized that he wasn't a she and kicked the shit out of him.” She shrugged as if asking: _what can you do?_

“Er...” Draco droned, actually speechless for a moment. He watched with a raised brow as Harry pulled Pam onto his lap and kissed her again.

“This is Draco Malfoy,” Harry introduced. “We went to school together and hated each other for most of it. I wouldn't exactly call us friends now, but we seem to tolerate each other.”

“That's because the two of you are dying to screw each other into the nearest bed until it burst into flames,” Pam stated knowingly with a grin.

Harry laughed. “I wouldn't put it quite like that, but you're not wrong.”

Pam got a sly grin on her face. “I'll make a deal with you, he can be your freebie if you'll _finally_ let me get a hooker.”

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. “No! I don't actually want to shag a hooker.”

“But baby, did you _see_ that smokin' redhead at the last club? Oh and that wet clingy shirt she wore the whole time?! Nippletooown! Holy shitsnacks! I wanted her so badly that I considered kidnapping her and tying her to our bed!”

Harry laughed a bit harder. “I know, you said that as I dragged you from the club.”

“Try to picture it, she would have been like a hundred and fifty gallons of hot, dirty, ball-slappiney –”

Harry covered her mouth with a hand as he roared in laughter. “Merlin's sweaty bollocks! The things that come out of your mouth just crack me up!”

“So... no to the freebie?” Pam asked curiously, obviously undressing Draco with her eyes.

“Are all Americans so utterly crude?” Draco asked with a frosty sneer.

“Probably not, just all the ones I know,” Pam replied with a shrug. “Yer a prissy bitch, aren't you?”

Draco glared at her, not deigning to reply.

Harry chuckled. “Er... no to the freebie. I'm not the type to have casual sex.”

Pam whipped her head to look at Harry in surprise. “Yer not?! Does that mean that your count is less than 50?”

Harry frowned in confusion. “Count?”

“Sexual partner count,” Pam clarified. “Because frankly, I lost count somewhere around 50.”

Harry's eyes bulged incredulously. “Merlin's wrinkly old prick! Seriously?”

“Yeah, but three fourths of that was just blowjobs. How do you think I got so good at it?” Pam asked with a knowing grin.

Harry blushed. “Er, my count is three.”

“Three hundred?” Pam asked, mildly impressed. “Damn Dawg! You could almost give my best friend a run for his money. Or wait, no... no you probably couldn't. I think he's probably over a thousand by now.”

Harry shook his head. “No. I mean three. One two three. That's it.”

Pam tilted her head and stared at him as if he had just been cursed to speak only gobbledygook. “Three...?”

Harry nodded in confirmation.

“Three?” Pam repeated, obviously boggling over this concept.

Harry simply nodded once more.

“No wait, _how_?! Most people have their first time at about 16, realize after a few tries that it's awkward and that they need to learn some technique or something, then have one or two new partners a year until they get into college and go on a bender, at which point they lose count.”

Harry chuckled. “Remember when I told you that I was the target of a terrorist? Well, I was too busy trying to survive to do any of that. And then when I finally defeated him, I had a girlfriend, who I stayed with for a few years. Thus, I only ever had sex with her, Malfoy here, and you.”

Draco hissed quietly. “That's not the sort of information you just blurt out in public!”

“Ah can it, shawty!” Pam ordered flippantly. As intended, Draco was indignant that he had just been called short even though he was over six feet tall – which was taller than either of them. “My boyfriend put up a privacy ward when he first sat down, di'n'chya babe?”

“How can you seriously date...” Draco trailed off as he glared Pam up and down. There were so many bad things to choose from, but he didn't think Harry would take kindly to any of them being pointed out. “ _An American_?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he took a swig of his butterbeer. “The world may never know, Malfoy.”

By the time the rest of Harry's friends had arrived – at least ten minutes late – Draco and Pam were having a blast trying to out insult the other. Draco came up with the poshest, most creative insults Harry had ever heard, while Pam favored crude swear words flavored heavily by colloquial anecdotes. All in all, Harry was laughing so much that it was hard for him to pause on occasion to take a drink.

The rest of his friends had _no idea_ what was going on...

 

***

 

Nearly a month later, Pam was positively giddy with excitement. Their case was _finally_ about to take them into the world of underground street racing. She'd long since tweaked her car to utter perfection, and couldn't wait until she got to race it.

In the meantime, she and Harry were sitting in a muggle cafe eating lunch. This had become something of a tradition whenever Harry just didn't feel like cooking. He'd invite his friends out to try something new. This particular cafe was famous for its roast beef sandwiches – which were actually very tasty.

“Holy shitsnackin' crackers!” Pam blurted out in astonishment as she pressed her face to the window.

Harry set his cup of tea down and curiously looked out the window. He saw a group of people dressed strangely. They reminded him a bit of a group of wizards trying to pass as muggles but not quite knowing how to navigate muggle fashion. He, Ron, and Hermione were amazed when Pam – who was the only one still eating – put down her sandwich and stood up.

“Stay here babe!”

Harry stood up and grabbed her hand. “No way. Where you go, I go.”

Pam smiled at him. “Alright, but here's the deal, you have to prove that you trust me by Disillusioning yourself and staying behind mild notice me not charms _no matter what happens_ until I ask for you to come out. Can you promise that?”

“Er... why?” Harry wondered with a raised brow.

“Because those are my friends and things will go a hell of a lot faster if I can get the whole reunion hugs and fighting out of the way before I introduce you. Besides, you'll probably learn a shit ton more about me that I can remember off the top of my head just by listening in,” Pam explained.

“Reunion fight?” Hermione asked in amusement.

“Yeah, alright, I promise,” Harry stated, holding his right hand up to illustrate his vow.

The Golden Trio quickly cast the required spells (having first very subtly cast a spell so that the muggles in the cafe wouldn't notice them – while Pam tossed enough money on the table to pay for their food, and also slipped her leftovers into her pocket). Then they followed Pam out of the cafe, across the street, and into a run down and abandoned building which her friends had disappeared into. The three of them hastily moved off to the side so that they wouldn't be in the way while Pam talked to her friends.

The first thing the group of seven did was pull out various guns and point them at her.

“Don't shoot, dickholes!” Pam ordered.

“Pam!” They all cried out in varying degrees of surprise and elation or dismay. They also stowed their guns because she wasn't a threat.

“Yer awake!” Pam cried out as she flung her arms around her best friend's neck and hugged him tight.

“Yeah, finally,” he agreed with a smile. “Where in the ass end of hell have you been?!”

“Working,” Pam stated with a mysterious grin.

“Who won the bet?” Lana asked. “I had high as balls off coke and blowing every trucker in every rest stop in the midwest.”

“I had laying dead in a desert after betraying yet another mob boss,” Malory piped in.

Cyril held up his hand to cut the rest off. “I don't think _anyone_ bet that she was off working somewhere.” He pulled out a pad of paper and flipped through it. “Nope. The closest anyone got was... Cheryl.”

“Seriously?” Cheryl asked. “But I bet that she got knocked up and had to change shitty diapers for a brat that was half Chinese, half black, and half redskin.”

“Racist!” Everyone blurted out in accusation.

“And changing diapers is a type of work,” Cyril stated with a shrug.

Pam walked over to Cheryl and slapped her across the face.

“Aww!” Cheryl purred happily. “I missed you too!” She gave Pam a quick hug.

“So, what are you guys doing here?” Pam asked.

Cheryl squealed giddily as she clapped her hands and bounced up and down. “I get to burn this place to the mother frickin' ground!”

“Aww, good for you!” Pam purred in congratulations.

“Yeah,” Lana added. “MI5 has this listed as being owned by the Irish rebellion and they hope to flush them out.”

“I think it's the Welsh rebellion,” Archer corrected snidely. Then held up a hand to stop her from arguing. “Shut up. Anyway, Pam, you can help us with this and then come home with us when we're done.”

“Sorry, can't,” Pam stated with a grin that made them all raise a brow at her.

“Why the shit not?” Archer wondered as he pulled out a bottle of whiskey and took an enormous swig. His mother held out her ever present glass expectantly, which he responded by holding up a finger to ask her to wait. When he was done, he filled her glass.

“I'm doing a job here that's important to me,” Pam explained. She then turned to smile at Cheryl. “But I've missed you guys so much. Here! I've been carrying that around as a reminder of you.”

Cheryl caught the bottle of her favorite glue and grinned. “Aww! That's so sweet!” She promptly opened the bottle and took a large gulp.

Ray pulled out a flask and took a swig before putting it back in his pocket. “Are we ever going to get this shitty job done?”

“Why are you being such a bitch today, missy?” Malory asked. “Do you have your period?”

“Oh ha ha!” Ray chuckled sarcastically. “To be honest, I'm getting hungry.”

“Oh!” Pam blurted out excitedly. “Check out the cafe across the street. If you hurry before this place really starts burning, you can order the roast beef because it is the best frickin' shit I've had in a _long_ while – since that time we took over San Marcos and got to live in the palace for three weeks because Cyril was the dictator.”

“God I _miss_ that Palace! I wish I could raise a small army and take it back!” Cyril exclaimed with a sigh of longing.

“The freakin' Palace was destroyed, you despotic dickhead!” Ray reminded him with a slap up the back of his head.

“Whatever happened to that giant canister of nerve gas?” Kreiger asked, seemingly out of the blue.

“I gave it back to the CIA so that they wouldn't throw us all in jail for frittering away 50 _million_ dollars worth of _their cocaine_!” Malory cried out in frustration, glaring at Kreiger.

“Which Pam ate most of,” Lana pointed out with a shrug.

“Yeah I did!” Pam cheered proudly.

“And even if I hadn't, I wouldn't trust your freak pseudo-scientist ass with it!” Malory added as if Lana hadn't spoken.

“Getting back to more important things,” Archer interjected.

“Like the job,” Lana drawled sarcastically.

“Shut up, no. I'm talking about Pam saying that she can't come home with us,” Archer replied. “What do you need to do? Do you want us to help you?”

“I can't tell you,” Pam stated with a shrug.

“Wait, don't you trust us? Remember the time that I saved your head from getting chopped off by the Yakuza?” Archer demanded a little angrily.

“No, I mean that I literally can't tell you, dicknuts. They did something – hypnosis or some shit – that made it impossible for me to say or write the actual words. If I even try, nothing will come out but gibberish,” Pam explained. She was actually lying, but only a little since MACUSA had actually cast a spell on her that did exactly as she claimed.

“Slave to a criminal organization!” Ray cried out as he raised one hand high over his head. “Called it! Pay up bitches!”

Everyone grumbled as they took money out of their pockets and handed it over to Ray.

Archer grabbed Pam by the shoulders. “Screw that shit! Is it the Irish? The Welsh? Whoever it is, we'll go shoot 'em up and tell MI5 that they came after us. Then you'll be free to come home.”

“Actually, you bunch of giant dicks, I'm working for a part of the British _government_ doing a job I really like and am good at. Plus, I'm getting paid a shit ton more than I ever have before,” Pam informed them.

“So I'll beat the shit out of Cyril until he gives you a raise,” Archer stated with a shrug.

“With what money, you colossal asshole?!” Cyril demanded.

“For shit's sake!” Pam roared. “It's not about the money! I have a boyfriend and I don't want to leave him, you shit lickin' monkeys!”

Every single one of her friends laughed so hard that they had to double over and hold their sides. Pam crossed her arms and stared them down.

“Ohhhh wait...” Lana droned in horror as she sobered up. “You're _serious_!!!”

“Why in the shit loving ass munchies would I lie about it?” Pam growled.

Archer held up a hand. “Shut up. You've never had a boyfriend before in your life, so why would any of us have any reason to believe you?”

“I've never _wanted_ a boyfriend before!” Pam exclaimed.

“Except that you told me when I was _pretending_ to be your boyfriend for your sister's wedding that you actually did –”

“I wanted Arn to be my boyfriend until my neck-stabbing sister and her bitch best friend blew him in the grain silo! After that, I was never interested in getting serious about anyone,” Pam clarified.

“Who would want to date you anyway?” Malory asked, genuinely mystified.

“I happen to be a very desirable woman,” Pam replied haughtily. “And I'm very good with my tongue, so suck it bitch!”

Malory, Lana, Archer, Cyril, and Kreiger all tilted their heads side to side and nodded to admit that she had a point there. “True,” they murmured a bit reluctantly. Archer eyed his mother suspiciously.

“Wait, mother. _Why_ aren't you saying something sarcastic to claim that she's just talking out her ass?”

“Because I can't actually deny that she is good with her tongue,” Malory stated with a shrug.

Archer promptly turned green and bent over so that he could vomit all over the floor. “Mother!” He vomited again. “How many times have I told you not to say shit like that around me?!”

“Oh for shit's sake, I have sex all the time! I'm married after all!” Malory reminded him.

Archer shuddered and vomited yet again.

“And really! How do you think I feel knowing that my son is such a man whore that I probably have thousands of bastard grandchildren around the world?!” Malory yelled, smacking Archer upside the back of his head. “You ass!”

“Did I tell you how he hit on my parents?” Lana asked with a light glare at Archer.

“That was an honest misunderstanding!” Archer roared defensively. “And shut up! We're trying to focus on Pam coming home!”

“No you shut up!” Pam yelled. “Because I told you that I _have a boyfriend_ and am not going home!”

Once more, the entire group of her friends couldn't help but laugh at that. Pam put her left fist to her chin and used it to crack her neck, advancing on the group as she did so. This sobered them all up instantly and they flung their hands up in the air as they backed away from her.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa wait! Pam! Pam! Pam! Pam! Pam!” They cried out in unison.

“Remember how I'm always nice to you!” Ray desperately reminded her.

“Remember how I can make you anything you want?” Kreiger tried to bribe.

“Remember how I vowed to pump your fat ass full of lead if you ever tried to beat me up again?” Malory threatened as she pulled her small handgun out and pointed it at Pam.

“I expect this from the rest of you punk ass bitches!” Pam yelled just before she punched Archer across the face. “But _you_ are supposed to be my best goddamn friend!” She punctuated this with another punch, and then kept on punching him with both fists in a flurry. “You asshole! You stupid, drunkass dicknuts! I should frickin' strangle you right now and –”

She was cut off as Cheryl squealed and clapped giddily. “Oh my god, yes! And then do me, do me!”

Archer punched Pam in the gut to get her to back off, but it didn't even phase her. Instead, she leapt up and grabbed an overhead bar and used it to wrap her legs around his neck while she rained punches on his face like acid.

“Goddamn it Pam! I'm sorry! Stop frickin' punching me before I have to get serious and kick your ass!” Archer shouted as he punched the first thing he could reach.

“Eat a dick!” Pam ordered with a heavy punch.

“You eat a dick!” Archer countered, punching her in the side.

“I ate a dick this morning!” Pam informed him. “And I really went to town on it too, so _you_ eat a dick!”

“I'll put a hundred bucks on Pam,” Ray said casually as he leaned against a wall.

“I don't know, I think I'd have to back Archer,” Lana murmured with a shrug.

“Pam,” Cyril stated.

“Sterling, of course,” Malory added with a shrug.

“The KGB!” Cheryl cried out with glee.

“What?” Malory asked in confusion. “They're not even here!”

“Hands in the air!” A man with a Russian accent commanded loudly.

The entire group sprang into action, charging the six KGB soldiers who were standing in a line blocking the only door and pointing AK47s at them. Except for Kreiger and Cheryl, who stood back and watched the action with obvious sexual enjoyment. Just after the soldiers were disarmed, but before they were incapacitated, a gorgeous blonde woman entered the building.

“Boys, _please_!” She stated in a soft voice that nevertheless was a command that expected to be obeyed.

“Yes ma'am!” The soldiers all exclaimed at once and surrendered.

“Katya!” Archer cried out happily as he hugged her.

“Oh for shit's sake! I'm _right here_!” Lana ground out angrily.

“What?!” Archer demanded grumpily.

“What do you mean what? You haven't seen your _ex-fiancée_ for more than five seconds, and you're already all over her like crabs on your genitals!” Lana yelled.

“God! I'm not going to have sex with her! Even though she has a heavenly vagina that vibrates,” Archer said with a shrug.

“And why should I believe you?! You had sex with Veronica Dean the first chance you got!” Lana pointed out.

“While we were on a break!” Archer yelled in frustration.

“A break we were only on because I couldn't trust you not to have sex with Veronica frickin' Dean!” Lana roared.

“Who shot and tried to kill you, I might add,” Cyril remarked.

“And almost succeeded,” Ray added.

“Putting you in a coma for months,” his mother muttered darkly as she took another sip of her ever present drink.

Katya held up her hands. “Could everyone be quiet for a moment? I'm here because I have a job I'd like to hire you for.”

“We're already on a job and we can't even hear you out until we finish it,” Cyril informed her.

Katya moved from Archer's side to Pam's. “To be honest, I think that I only want to hire you. You look like you could pass for a Russian, and I hear that you have no problems blowing your way into any organization you want.”

Pam threw her hands up in the air and sighed. “For the love of shit-zombies and all you can eat buffets! I already _have_ a job I love and a boyfriend I don't want to leave!”

Katya laughed, but this time, Pam's friends were wise enough to bite it back. Pam stuck her fist in Katya's face.

“Watch it, you skinny bitch sex robot!” Pam growled. “Or I'll kick the shit out of your cyborg ass!”

Katya giggled. “I am head of the Russian military, I could have you executed before I ate my breakfast. More importantly...” she opened a panel on her exposed abdomen to show off her circuitry before closing it again. “I am an invincible cyborg. There's no way you can _kick my ass_.”

“Wanna bet?!” Pam demanded. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a shotgun – which she pumped one handed. “Try me!”

Katya held up her hands and sighed. “Fine. I don't want to argue. As I said, I'm here to hire your group.”

Malory stepped up to Katya and looked her up and down with barely concealed dislike. “Fine. We're staying at this hotel,” she slipped Katya a business card. “So come visit us there after we finish this job. We'll be able to talk them.”

“Da!” Katya agreed with a shark-like smile. “I'll see you then. Boys!”

“Da!” They all responded in unison, and then followed her out of the building.

“Let's light this bitch up already!” Cheryl suggested with an impatient whine.

Pam held up her hands – having stashed her shotgun back in her pocket. “Wait, before you do, I want to introduce you guys to my boyfriend and his friends. Then we can say goodbye and leave before you do _anything_ I don't want to know about. And I mean that literally. If there's anyone in this building that you're supposed to kill in this fire – or just bodies to dispose of – I _cannot_ know about it, so don't tell me!”

“No, I'm pretty sure MI5 took out and then disposed of anyone that was in here long before we arrived,” Kreiger stated with a shrug.

Pam exhaled in relief because her job as an Auror required her to stop such crimes if she came across them. “Good.” Then she swept her hand out to indicate Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Guys, meet my boyfriend, Harry.”

“WHAT THE SHIT?!” Lana roared in shock. “There was no one there! Where the fuck did they come from?!”

Pam frowned at Lana in concern. “They've been standing there this whole time.”

“No they fucking haven't!” Lana shouted. “I'd have seen them one of the _many_ times I canvassed the room!”

Pam shrugged. “Meh, you were probably too pissed off at Archer to care about anything else.”

“She's got you there,” Ray stated. “Although it's weird that I didn't see them either.”

“I did,” Cheryl said in a bored tone. “I just thought they were ghosts like my grandpa, who likes to sneak into my room and watch me as I'm sleeping. At least as a ghost, he can't grope me anymore.”

“I'm actually glad I never met your grandpa,” Pam said. “Although, I do think I felt him watching me when we stayed in your mansion that year we were trying to be drug dealers.”

“Shitty drug dealers,” Cheryl stated.

“And the feeling of being watched was probably me,” Kreiger added. “I had cameras in every room of the house so that I could post clips of you all going to the bathroom online in fetish forums and make a nice profit off it.”

“What the shit, Kreiger?!” Archer bellowed.

“You didn't know that?” Cyril asked, mildly baffled.

“I made a deal with him for a portion of the profits so long as he never posted anything by me. I also avoided using the bathrooms there for that very reason,” Malory informed her son.

“Jesus Christ, mother! Next time warn your son!”

“Meh, we'll see,” Malory murmured with a careless shrug.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Pam growled significantly, clearing her throat. She waved her hand up and down in front of Harry. “Guys, meet my boyfriend, Harry.”

“Oh sploosh!” Cheryl, Lana, Ray, and even Malory blurted out.

“Right?!” Pam asked with glee.

“What does that mean?” Harry asked Pam curiously as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side.

“It means they would all love to drag you to the nearest bed and screw you so hard that the bed would melt from all the friction,” Pam explained.

Harry couldn't help but blush. “Er... thanks?”

“And these are his best friends, Ron and Hermione,” Pam continued the introduction. She then paused to kiss Harry's cheek and whisper in his ear. “Thanks for doing as I asked. Believe me, this whole thing would have taken a _lot_ longer if you hadn't.”

Harry grinned at her and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. “No problem, babe. And for the record, I think you should know,” he looked around at the rest of them. “You should _all_ know that I'm dating Pam because she makes me laugh. She's also amazing and we work together really well.”

“Holy shit!” Lana swore reverently. “It's the real deal!”

“Aww...” Pam purred happily at Harry, then swept her hand out to indicate her friends. “Harry, this is Sterling Archer, Lana Kane, Cyril Figgis, Malory Archer, Cheryl Tunt, Ray Gillette, and Algernop Kreiger. My former coworkers, only friends, and sort of dysfunctional family.”

“Er... pleased to meet you,” Harry replied diplomatically.

Ron chuckled. “Has anyone ever told any of you that you're a bunch of nutters?”

“Surprisingly, not as much as you'd think,” Lana answered, sounding rather speculative now.

“Well anyway, now that you've all met, I think it's time we left,” Pam stated.

“Are you going to watch the show from across the street?” Cheryl asked, sort of wrapping herself around Pam like a cat.

“No, I think I'm obligated to be far away from here when it happens. I may work for a government agency, but I'm pretty sure they'd frown on MI5's antics here,” Pam replied.

Cheryl stared deeply into Pam's eyes. “I'm finally getting paid to set a building on fire and watch it burn until nothing's left but smoldering ashes. It's going to be beautiful and my panties are going to be so wet.”

“Mine too!” Kreiger added.

“Aww sweetie, I'm so happy for you,” Pam purred. “And since I may not see you again anytime soon...” she abruptly wrapped her hands around Cheryl's neck and choked her as hard as she could. Cheryl placed her hands on Pam's arms and surrendered to the abuse.

“Er...” Harry asked in alarm. “Shouldn't we stop her?”

“Meh,” the rest of Pam's friends replied, watching with various degrees of boredom and impatience.

When Cheryl made a particular sound, Pam let her go. Cheryl hugged Pam and purred like a well-contented cat. “Oh my god, thank you!” She whispered hoarsely.

“No problem, honey,” Pam assured her with a knowing grin.

Archer grabbed Pam's hand and pulled her into a hug. “I've missed you, girl. Keep in touch, understand? I've gotta tell you all about this insane dream I had while I was in that coma. You were in it and you had about 30 Chinese sister wives!”

“That sounds like the start of an interesting weekend!” Pam said with a laugh.

“I know, right?!” Archer agreed with a grin.

“Hey, does this place have a back door?” Kreiger asked as he looked off toward the area that Harry had hidden in earlier. “Because I'd swear I just heard something that sounds like someone coming in the back door.”

“Phrasing, boom!” Archer, Pam, Cheryl, and Ray cried out in unison.

Pam slipped her hand in Harry's and tugged on it. “Come on, let's go.”

As they walked away from the building, Harry's arm around Pam's shoulders and Ron and Hermione following them – both relieved to finally be out of that situation – Harry shook his head. “No seriously, your friends are mental!”

Pam grinned at him. “Yeah, but that's what I like about 'em.”

“Guess now I know for a fact that you were telling the truth all those times I thought you were just telling me a crazy story to make me laugh,” Harry chuckled.

“Yeah, I don't really feel a need to lie. Like ever. I have so much true shit to tell that I just don't want to have to try to make something up.”

Harry grinned and gave her a kiss. “I'll try to keep that in mind.”

 

***

 

Almost four weeks later, when they were cuddled up in bed after an amazing few hours of sex, Harry stroked Pam's back as a thought occurred to him. “Did you mean it when you said that you'd never wanted a boyfriend before?”

Pam shrugged. “Never knew a man that didn't turn out to be an asshole after a few weeks, so no. I mean yes, I meant it.”

Harry grinned at her. “That's sort of sweet. I get to be your first something after all.”

Pam decided not to say anything because she wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Instead, she kissed him.

“We should get ready to go soon,” Harry suggested. “If all goes well, tonight will be the last night we work this case.”

Pam felt an inexplicable twinge in her gut. And her heart. Mostly her heart. “Yeah. I s'pose it will.”

“It'll be interesting to see how all the other Aurors handle the job,” Harry remarked with a smile.

The first couple of times Pam had entered an illegal race, she'd had Harry and another pair of Aurors with her – posing as her crew – to do the actual detective work while she raced. Their reconnaissance had uncovered that the higher ups in the potions ring tended to do the majority of their business while most everyone else was busy watching the race. This meant that people from all the clubs they'd identified as part of the ring attended the races. Which meant that when the Aurors enacted their sting, they were going to be able to arrest a _lot_ of people in one go.

The best _and_ worst part, in Pam's opinion, was that the sting was set to take place after she started her race – so she wouldn't actually be a part of arresting anyone. This was good because it meant that if Pam was ever needed to do this particular job in the future, her cover would still be intact. Harry was going to use Polyjuice for this very reason.

In any case, pretty much every Auror on the force, plus all the regular officers in the DMLE, and even Ron and Hermione – who wanted to be on hand as witnesses more than anything, but also to watch Harry's back if necessary – were going to be in the crowd. Pam had been given a small budget and everyone's measurements and told to go buy muggle clothes for everyone. That had been fun because she had made a point of buying clothes for Mr. Priss – aka Auror Thompson – that made him look almost exactly like Cyril.

In any case, Pam was looking forward to the race. The race was illegal, and yet happened on a weekly basis. This meant that a crew of people went around scouting locations and setting up cameras along the route so that the spectators could watch and place bets. Pam was willing to bet that there was at least one wizard working with them that cast a series of notice-me-not charms so that they didn't get caught by the muggle police.

And come to think of it, that might explain why the races never got caught back in America either. Or at least, not caught very often. The car she was using here had certainly been charmed with an N-M-N in order to avoid the complication of her getting caught while they were conducting the raid.

All in all, it was going to be a fun night.

Two hours later, Pam looked around to see if she could spot Ron and Hermione in the crowd. They were supportive of her as an extension of being supportive of Harry, and this was a concept so strange that Pam wasn't quite sure how to handle it. They waved at her. Harry hadn't taken his Polyjuice yet, and wouldn't until he saw the signal for the start of the raid. Thus, he was standing next to her as they waited for the race to begin. Both studiously ignored the other Aurors in the crowd, and even the two posing as part of her crew, as they smiled at each other.

“Good luck,” Harry murmured just before he gave her a kiss that left her breathless. The rest of the department knew they were pretending to date as part of their cover, but Pam doubted that any of them knew they were dating for real. This made her feel a bit like a naughty school girl sneaking around behind the teachers' backs. She purred happily and groped his arse, provoking a moan of longing from him.

“Racers! Two minutes!” A voice blared out over a bunch of speakers set up around the abandoned parking lot to a factory that the race was starting in.

“I'm going to win it this time, I can feel it!” Pam announced, referring to the fact that she had come in second, third, and second place so far. None of those had prizes as big as first place did – being crappy gift cards for the most part – but still held prestige in a race made up of ten to fifteen of the most cutthroat drivers around.

Once again, Pam was pretty much the only woman. A daughter of one of the bigwigs would enter the race when she was bored – and usually won it – but that was fairly rare as she was usually too busy manipulating the men around her into giving her everything she wanted.

Pam seized one last kiss from Harry, slid into her car, and turned it on to wait for the race to begin. Like every other time she was racing, or about to fight, her mind emptied of everything. All that existed to her in this moment was the steering wheel and pedals of the car – followed by the road and the special orange arrows that pointed out the route they were supposed to follow.

Suddenly, a flare was shot into the air, the sound and light of which was the signal to go. Pam slammed her foot on the gas and tore off like a bat out of hell. She didn't give even half a second's thought to the raid, or what sort of shitstorm she might come back to. All she did was focus on her race and winning it so hard that people talked about it for years to come.

Approximately eighty percent of the turns were dangerous bordering on deadly. They required drifting skills that were becoming increasingly rare in this age of fuel efficient, automatic cars. Skills Pam had first learned and then perfected on dirt roads back on a farm in rural Wisconsin. Skills that also served her fairly well whenever she had to drive in icy snowstorms. Skills that made her feel alive.

To her disappointment, despite being neck and neck practically the entire race, Pam lost out on first place to a car that activated a special booster for the last ten seconds before the finish line. Even so, second place was nothing to laugh at during a race like this. Since the finish line was in the same lot that the starting line had been, Pam emerged from her car to see...

Chaos.

The DMLE had taken everyone that had been tagged as part of the potions ring into custody. Muggles were trying to run away, thinking that they were about to be arrested for participating in an illegal race. The driver that had just won immediately got back in his car and sped away, nearly crashing into other racers still making their way to the finish line.

Pam grinned as she watched. It was sheer beauty to her. No one in the world would probably understand it, but shit like this was what she lived for. Which might actually explain why she fit in so well at ISIS, before they were bought out by the government and had to basically do whatever they could to continue on.

Since all wands had been charmed to look like muggle taser guns and an anti apparition ward had been set up, the DMLE simply let any muggle who wasn't tagged for arrest escape. This solved the problem of having to come up with an explanation for them. Soon enough, the chaos settled into semi-organization.

Feeling satisfaction at a job well done, Pam got back in her car and drove it back home. She probably shouldn't have stayed to watch as long as she did – which might have blown her cover for the future – but she could help it. She'd wanted to see it all work out.

Now, all she had to do was wait for the meeting tomorrow. Robards was going to tell her her fate. Was she going to remain in London? Was she going to stay partnered with Harry?

And wait! Was Harry going to want to keep being boyfriend and girlfriend now that they no longer had a reason to be?

With a heavy heart, Pam parked her car. For the first time in her life, she gave serious consideration to suicide – to letting the car stay running while she slowly fell asleep. But that just wasn't her style. She loved herself too much to just throw away her life over the possible rejection of the only man she had ever –

She nearly fell out of her car, staring at nothing with wide eyes. Holy shitsnackin' cracker zombies!!! When in the fucking _hell_ had she fallen in _love?!?!_

Suddenly, she felt like she was going to vomit. Except for she'd have to inhale in order to do so and she was pretty sure that she had stopped breathing five minutes ago. If she had a paper bag on hand, she wasn't sure whether she'd hyperventilate into it, or fill it with the tacos she'd had for an after dinner snack.

When Harry Apparated home an hour or so later, he had to search the entire house before he thought to ask Kreacher where she was and subsequently found her in the garage. At first, he grinned at her, but it quickly turned to a frown as he realized that something was wrong. She almost looked high off of something with her pupils blown wide and a vague expression of horror on her face as she stared at her steering wheel.

Without a word, Harry took her hand and led her into the house. When they were seated at the kitchen table – Ron and Hermione were there too, having been home longer than Harry – Harry rubbed Pam's back soothingly and ordered Kreacher to bring them some strawberries and whipped cream wrapped in crêpes.

“What's wrong?” Hermione asked in concern.

“I'm not sure,” Harry murmured. “She looks like she's having a bad trip.”

Pam shook her head as she stuffed a crêpe into her mouth, licking the cream from the corner of her mouth. “No... I'm nearly sober. Huh! Maybe that's the problem.” She pulled a bottle of her favorite tequila out of her pocket and downed a good four or five shots worth before she exhaled a sigh of relief. “Better...”

Harry looked half amused and half concerned. “Alright...”

Pam could see that he was a bit worried about her by the look on his face, so she shrugged as she ate another crêpe. “Nothing's wrong. I was just... I don't know... upset or something by the possibility that I'd be thanked for my work and then sent home during tomorrow's meeting.”

Harry smiled at her. “Not if I can help it. I'm going to make it clear that I think we work very well together and that I don't want any other partners. And in fact...” Harry wasn't sure how to do this without scaring her off – he'd intuitively found her one fear after all. So, he opted against all of the traditional romantic gestures and simply slipped a ring on her finger. “I want to make it official.”

Pam stared at the ring on her hand with wide eyes and expression very similar to the one that she was wearing when Harry found her still in her car. She swallowed and blinked as if trying to reset reality into something that made sense. Then she pulled her tequila bottle out of her pocket and chugged it until she felt a little better.

“Are you serious?” She demanded in a surprisingly quiet and shaky voice.

“Very,” Harry stated in confirmation. Ron and Hermione were watching them in stunned silence. Hermione's expression slowly turned to a frown as she privately thought that the fact that Pam needed to drink an alarming amount of tequila before she could cope with a marriage proposal did not bode well for the marriage – if they actually got married.

After gulping in several lungfuls of air, Pam still couldn't speak or eat! – so she simply nodded. With a grin, Harry kissed her quite possessively, and then dragged her to bed.

 

***

 

When Pam and Harry entered the conference room for the meeting the next morning, there was a round of light applause. No matter how much certain people wanted to deny it (such as Mr. Priss), the fact was that the raid had been a success directly because Harry and Pam had done such a good job gathering up information. Those who were being honest had to admit that Pam's job was arguably the harder one, since she had to do all the crazy shit while Harry simply sat back, watched, and memorized all the details he could in case it happened to be important.

Practically the moment they were seated – Robards hadn't arrived yet – an Auror named Smith who was known as a chauvinistic prick sneered at them. “So, _Potter_ , how relieved are you that you won't ever have to kiss this fat bitch again?”

Harry decided not to dignify his question with a response, other than a glare. He was sitting on Pam's left, so he took her hand in his and dropped light kiss on her knuckles. This had the effect of subtly emphasizing her ring without actually saying anything. Pam smiled at him adoringly and kissed his hand in return.

As it turned out, Robards had entered the room just then. He sighed in mild frustration. “Potter, Poovey, please try to remember to fill out the declaration of relationship form on your way out of the Ministry today. I think that aside from this meeting – which I _pray_ will take less than two hours – you two should probably rest up for a few days.”

The prick was too astonished to realize that the meeting had officially started. He stared at Harry and Pam incredulously. “Bloody hell! How can someone as famous as you, Potter, settle for someone as... _crude_ as her?!”

Harry whipped out his wand, more than ready to hex Smith into oblivion. Once again, Pam was completely unphased.

“Listen, dickhole! I may be crude, but if we were to have a contest to see which of the two of us could orally please their partner better, I'd not only kick your ass across the street, but I'd do it with both hands tied behind my back!”

He gave her a skeptical look. “Are you implying that Potter asked you to marry him simply because you are a slag that knows how to suck cock?”

Pam leaned a little over the table to look at him slightly better. “No, dicknuts! I'm implying that I'm better than your shit eating ass!”

“Merlin! The mouth on you! Potter, how can you not hex her silent every time she opens her mouth?!”

Harry was still glaring at and seriously tempted to curse the arsehole, but at this, he shrugged. “Actually, she makes me laugh, and she doesn't give two knuts about how famous I am. I've never known anyone like her and quite frankly I'm amazed at how strong and fearless she is. I'm sorry if my being over the moon in love with her doesn't make sense to you, but – actually, no I'm not. You can take your attitude and go shove it up your arse for all I care.”

“Aww babe! That's literally the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to, well actually _about_ me!” Pam purred happily.

Robards cleared his throat loudly before Pam could kiss Harry. “If we're all done shouting, could we _please_ get on with this meeting?!”

“Sure thing boss!” Pam agreed with a flirty little wink and two thumbs up at him. He shook his head in amusement and soldiered on.

By the end of the meeting, Pam was relieved to know that the Head Auror didn't plan to reassign her. And even if he had considered it for a moment, he'd more than likely changed his mind when he saw how devoted Harry and Pam were to each other. That sort of dedication in Auror partners was hard to come by and more than made up for whatever might be missing because Pam was a squib.

 

***

 

Harry had tried his best to talk Pam into a moderate sized wedding. A traditional one where they both invited everyone they knew and exchanged their vows in a gorgeous park in front of an officiant. He thought it would be fun, even if planning it would take a long time, meaning that they'd probably not actually get married until sometime next year.

Pam, on the other hand, tried her best to talk Harry into just dropping everything and eloping to someplace nearby where they could just get it done – either on their own, or with Ron and Hermione as witnesses. It wasn't that she was afraid that he'd change his mind – although that _was_ a fear that niggled at her – but rather that she had never in her life been serious enough about anyone to daydream about weddings. Thus, she didn't have anything in particular that she wanted to happen.

They'd ended up having to compromise when they found out that Pam was pregnant. Apparently, Harry Potter was such a powerful wizard that even his sperm did not obey something as trivial as muggle birth control pills. Harry was over the moon about it. Pam was... equal parts in shock and terrified.

In any case, they'd compromised by having a small wedding in a muggle park as soon as possible – before Pam started to show. It was September, so the leaves were in the process of turning colors before they fell. This lent a beauty to the day that Pam was fairly sure she was going to remember fondly for the rest of her life.

The only people attending the wedding were Harry's family – which meant the Weasleys, McGonagall, and Hagrid – and Pam's friends... and sister Edie. Ron and Hermione served as Harry's best man and maid of honor while Edie and Archer served as Pam's. Edie tried her best several times to ruin Pam's wedding day – like Pam had inadvertently ruined hers – but Archer and Harry teamed up to thwart her at every turn.

However, because of this, Harry had agreed to having the shortest possible ceremony. It was best to just get it over with before Edie resorted to something drastic – like stabbing Pam in the eye!

When the officiant declared them married and gave them permission to kiss, Pam nearly swooned. She couldn't help but think of the cliché: sometimes, fairy-tales do come true.

 

***

 

“Honey, the baby's crying,” Harry murmured as he nudged his wife with his elbow. Or tried to. Unexpectedly, her side of the bed was empty – which didn't mean that she was tending to the baby since the baby was basically draped over his left hip as he fussed in his sleep. He probably wanted to nurse, but obviously was nowhere near the soft and plump breasts necessary in order to do so.

Coming more fully awake, Harry sat up and looked around. The baby – at about 10 months old – was thankfully the only one currently fussing. The toddler was snoring from somewhere near the foot of their enormous bed, and the other five were passed out wherever they'd landed when coming to bed. One had actually wormed her way into the warmth of Pam's spot after Pam had apparently vacated the bed.

A sound from the en suite bathroom alerted Harry to the location of his wife.

“Merlin's pendulous bollocks! _Again_?!” Harry blurted out incredulously.

“Blame yer super fertile dick you –!” She was cut off by more vomiting.

“Damnit honey! We've _only_ been back to work from parental leave a couple of months this time!” Harry roared, extremely glad that he actually didn't need to worry about supporting his family.

“I can assure you that never once in my life did I _ever_ think I'd be married with eight kids, and after this one, I think that one of us should get fixed!” Pam might have said more, but she groaned and heaved instead.

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to agree. Pam had agreed to stop drinking and doing drugs – with the help of a couple of potions to combat addiction – so long as she was pregnant or nursing a baby. She was still the same fearless spitfire she ever was while sober, which he loved. He had tried to time their first few children so that she'd get pregnant just as she was about to wean – thus basically trapping her in a loop of sobriety.

Now, however, even he had to admit that they might have too many kids. That said, he was more than a little afraid that she'd go back to her addict ways if they stopped having babies. He sighed and ran a hand through his head.

“Maybe we stop after twelve?”

“I swear to God that if yer being serious right now, I will straight up murder you!” Pam roared from the bathroom. She then flushed the toilet, ran the tap to get some water to rinse out her mouth, and spat it into the sink. Finally, she emerged from the bathroom. “I'm going downstairs for some milk and crackers to settle my stomach.”

“Alright babe,” Harry murmured, realizing that he had automatically patted the baby's butt until he'd fallen back to sleep. “I hope you feel better soon. Love you.”

Pam stopped in the doorway to smile back at him. She utterly _adored_ seeing him half asleep with their kids piled all around him. It made her heart soar in ways she still couldn't quite understand.

“I love you too. Dicknuts!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hate me for making Harry turn Draco down!  
> What did you think? Did I make you laugh?  
> Lastly, it was actually really hard to switch back and forth between Pam's American speech patterns and Harry's British ones, so I'm afraid that Harry probably sounds rather American in this too, sorry!  
> As a side note, I tried really hard to find if there was a unique British way to say "crack me up" or "laugh my ass off" meaning to make one laugh really hard - since I didn't think crack me up was a British phrase at all. That said, I couldn't find *anything* - not even when I asked an American friend living in England! So either they actually do use those phrases, or they just don't mention someone making them laugh - like, at all, lol.


End file.
